Somewhere Between Black And White
by sickbed00
Summary: One shot. Edward/Jon. Jonathan takes his experiments too far and Edward attempts to bring him back from the brink of madness.


He knew that voice. Edward had heard it in quiet conversation, he had heard it snap insults to the other inmates. He had heard it as a warm whisper before drifting off into a dreamless sleep. Edward had heard Jonathan's voice in many unique ways, each just as beautiful to his ears as the next, but what horrifying cry it was contorting into now shook him completely from his tangible bones to his very soul.

Edward pressed his face as best he could through his cell bars. Somewhere beyond in the cold fortress of steel and stone that was Arkham Jonathan was screaming out in agony. His helpless cries echoing off every surface.

A month prior the two had escaped as a team, but Jonathan insisted with much fervor that once certain of their freedom they go their separate ways. Edward played his role well as the agreeable accomplice, but inside he ached, just as it had on those frantic nights they had spent buried in one another's naked flesh.

"It's only sex," had been Jonathan's explanation the first time he came to Edward, already slipping out of his prison regulation jumpsuit before the bewildered man could even answer. Jonathan had casually stated that he and Edward were men of the mind not the flesh and indulging in worldly needs spoke no less of them. Edward nodded a lie to this, wanting so much more from that first kiss, that first touch, that first fuck they shared. He did not just want Jonathan's body, as perfect as it was in his blue eyes, he wanted the man's mind and soul as well.

A part of him had hoped upon his capture that Jonathan soon would be found and perhaps they could be bunk mates once more. But now, as Edward shivered at another scream tearing through the halls Edward scolded himself for ever being so selfish. Jonathan was back in Arkham but not back in his arms. Were they torturing him? Beating him? Worse? Edward didn't want to imagine what could cause the master of fear to howl like he was.

"Oh, Jonathan…," he whispered to himself, his vision blurring with tears, "…I'm so sorry…"

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''',,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"Come on Harvey, just tell me what you know!" Edward watched with wide eyes as Harvey 'Two Face' Dent sent his precious coin into another fine three foot flip into the air.

"Heads?" Asked Harvey.

"Yeah, heads, fine, heads!" The coin landed. Heads up. Edward released a sigh. If there was anyone who knew more about the inner workings of Arkham Asylum than Harvey Dent Edward had not yet met them. The man had connections with every screw in the joint.

"He's in solitary. Block S-10. Cell 299."

"What'd he do to end up in the hole?" Harvey made another flip of his coin. "Oh, God dammit Dent! Answer me!"

"Heads?"

"Yes! Fucking heads!" Heads again. Edward prayed his luck would hold.

"Way I hear it, he's been playing fast and loose with some new drug. Surprise, in some scuffle with the Bat and his brat he got himself pricked with the needle."

"New drug?" Edward muttered to himself. "What's the gimmick?"

"Ed-o, odds say it's gonna go tails this time."

"Tails," Edward groaned. The coin went up. Harvey caught it. "Thank God."

"The docs say it was some kinda pheromone. When you get injected instead of getting spooked you give everyone around you the heebie jeebies. The professor got himself so bad though word has it he's developed a phobia for himself."

"That doesn't make any sense…," with arms crossed, Edward leaned back in his chair. Harvey shrugged, quite indifferent to the plight of the Scarecrow.

"Just repeating what I heard. All that screaming? He's been trying to crawl out of his own skin they say. Docs can't even go near him, that pheromone is too strong. Five feet of the strawman and you start hallucinating yourself. Crane's really got himself into a mess this time." Harvey stood up from his seat across the card table that separated him and Edward. "Nice talkin' Ed-o, hope I was some help. Got other _obligations_ to attend to…"

"Yeah, yeah," Edward shrugged. His mind was already a million miles away from Arkham's dreary rec-room. It was strangely poetic, Edward had to admit. Jonathan was afraid of himself. The idea seemed ludicrous but it did explain the pain that could be heard echoing endlessly through the concrete halls of Arkham. Edward couldn't image what it must have been like to be your own living nightmare.

Worse of all it didn't sound like Jonathan was getting any comfort from his suffering. The doctors were too scared to even come near him let alone help him. Harvey was right, Jonathan had really screwed himself.

Edward closed his eyes.

"I'm coming, Jonathan."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The plan was simple. Solitary was in the far north wing of Arkham along with the morgue and the infirmary. As much as Edward boasted about his performance skills faking an illness was far easier than faking his own death.

"The fuck is the matter with you Nygma? We said roll call!" Edward groaned dramatically from his bed. Two very pissed guards stood around him, waiting for a reason why they shouldn't kick his ass then and there.

"Have some compassion officers…I've been up puking my guts out all night…"

"Fuckin' a," Edward felt a firm tug on the back of his jumpsuit that pulled him to the floor.

"Get him to the infirmary."

Edward smiled as they strapped him into the gurney.

The north wing was the most secure part of Arkham but once inside moving around was a cake walk. All Edward needed was a disguise.

Another reason the infirmary was chosen over the morgue was because it was crawling with stupid, silly med school kids. As part of their curriculum, the students of all medical fields; from cardiology to pathology to neurology and of course psychology got to play doctor in Arkham before they were released into the real world. The general public much preferred if these young ones screwed up operating on a hardened criminal as opposed to an innocent child so this morally questionable practice was tolerated.

This was a lucky thing for Edward. The students from Gotham U were petrified of their test subjects and months of being boarded in tight quarters with Jonathan had taught Edward how to use this fear to his advantage.

"Like needle pricking your skin…," Edward whispered into the ear of a young man leaning in to observe his sinuses., "soft, never piercing, but the threat is always there…"

"W-what are you doing?"

"All over…you can never catch them. They creep into your eyes and bury their eggs…"

"Stop it!" The young man dropped his archaic looking tool to the ground and began to claw himself all over. "Oh God!" Edward didn't know how Jonathan developed this technique, this ability to instill fear with nothing more than words but it was effective as hell. All Edward had to do was seek out what the target feared the most, in this case spiders, and simply convince him he was covered in them. It was truly a credit to Jonathan's diabolical genius.

"Their eggs…they're in your brain…"

"Please! Please stop! I-I'll do anything just get them out of my brain!"

Moments later a confused gaggle of medical students would find one of their own in a half naked heap on the floor, covered in his own urine and screaming wildly about arachnids raping his skull.

While this confusion was being sorted, Edward was already upon the guard's kiosk in the middle of block S-10. Harvey didn't even have to have bothered telling Edward which cell Jonathan was being held in, anyone in the north wing could have figured that out with how loud he was crying.

Dressed in his stolen disguise of medical scrubs, hat and surgical mask Edward approached the kiosk, waving the young med students I.D. card at the guards.

"Lost," he laughed his one word explanation.

"You supposed to be in the infirmary?" A hefty female guard asked. Her partner readied his hand on his gun.

"Yeah. I'm kinda new, sorry. I left to take a whiz and somehow ended up here…"

"It's okay, Sugar, I'll get you back. Marv!" The female guard looked to her partner. Slowly, he lowered his hand and barked a simple 'yes'. "Keep an eye on these loons."

"Excellent," Edward whispered as the female guard joined his side. This was it. The next part of his plan was the key to getting to Jonathan. It was also the key to his own cell in solitary and maybe a few more years added onto his sentence. But Edward had already come to peace with that and being so close to Jonathan's painful howls he couldn't turn back now.

Edward grabbed the baton and gun from the guard's holster. Before she could protest she was down on the ground, knocked out cold and Edward had the gun aimed at the guard still in the kiosk.

"Cell 299!"

"What?" All the security cameras could be heard mechanically whirling around to focus their aim on Edward.

"I said cell 299 you fucking screw, open it!"

"Are you mad?"

"This is a God damn insane asylum, what do you think?"

Edward slammed the heavy metal door of cell 299 behind him just was a swarm of guards swept into solitary. He knew though he was safe, not a single one of them crazy enough to come after him now.

"Jonathan…," the little cell was dark, almost pitch but Edward could see the hard angled lines of Jonathan Crane's face. For a moment he had stopped screaming but his thin lips still mumbled incoherently between begging pleas. His eyes, drooping with dark bags from so many sleepless nights were twisted tightly shut. From what could be seen through the many straps that kept him secure Edward noted several large bruises and claw marks, most likely self inflicted marring Jonathan's skin. He was filthy from head to toe, he probably hadn't been washed since his arrival. "Jonathan…wake up…"

It hit Edward like a ton of bricks. A sudden sickness in his stomach that snaked down into his legs, making them too weak to stand. He toppled over but refused to give up. Clinging to the door handle, Edward summoned all the strength he could to face Jonathan's mutant pheromone. Crawling to the bedside, each inch he gained unleashing a new sensory nightmare. The floor was sinking, the room was shrinking, otherworldly sounds threatened to deafen him. The only thing that remained a clear constant was Jonathan. He was like an island, some kind of safe harbor that Edward had to seek out through the storm.

Upon reaching him, Edward's first impulse was to kiss Jonathan. It had been so long and the nights without him had been so cold. At that moment it was the only thing in the world that seemed sane.

Jonathan's lips reacted to the touch of Edward's, their sad cries melting into quiet little mewls of pleasure.

"That's right Jon," Edward whispered into their kiss, "that's right…I'm here…" The world around them was spinning. Monsters were creeping from the shadows now, Edward could feel their cold hands around his wrist and ankles trying to drag him away, but he held fast to the straps on Jonathan's bed.

"Ed…," Jonathan's eyes fluttered opened then quickly shut with a cry. "Eddie…it can't be…"

"It is me," Edward began to undo the straps. The shadow monsters screamed and recoiled. They did not like the idea of their master being free. Jonathan once more attempted to open his eyes, this time with a bit more success. Weakly they squinted , the sclera red from so many tears.

"Why…?"

"To save you," Edward laughed a bit.

"It's too late," Jonathan whispered, "too late…leave…"

"I'm not going without you," Edward grabbed Jonathan up into his arms. Hellish sounds nearly drowned his words. Edward pressed his lips into Jonathan's ear. "I won't leave."

"If you stay any longer…it will affect you too…"

"What?"

"You'll be lost…like me," Jonathan looked up into Edward's eyes. In that moment he seemed as perfectly lucid as the day they first met. "The drug'll rot you're brain, it'll," a deep kiss silenced Jonathan's words. At first he struggled, desperate to finish his warning but soon learned it did not matter. Edward had chosen his fate and, for better or worse, it was to be with Jonathan.

Edward Nygma was never returned to his cell in the general prison population. After a thorough examination from both the medical and psychological staff of Arkham he was deemed too hopelessly ill, just like Jonathan Crane. It was thought best the two were kept together, for some reason the presence of the other was the closest thing to an antidote that could be found. Separately they were violent mad men, together they shared some sort of world untouched by the nightmares around them.

And they would remain, always enraptured with each other in that little world. Consumed with touch in all its most innocent and intimate forms.


End file.
